


Bokeh

by Sugaredwings (CaffeinatedQueer)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Background Kurotsukki, Canon Divergent, First Time, M/M, Masterbation, Shouyo deserves more screen time than I give him, Training Camp, Yachi just deserves more in general, implied future bokuakakuroken, lots of plot with little sex, no beta we publish the first draft like men, this was supposed to be a quickie bokuken for bokuto’s Birthday but here we are, unrequinted bokuaka, unrequinted kuroken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:46:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedQueer/pseuds/Sugaredwings
Summary: Training camp is the perfect setting for summer flings and Kuroo’s found his, leaving Kenma lonely and curious. Without Kuroo as an in-between, he sees Bokuto Koutarou in a different focus.Bokeh (n): the aesthetic quality of the out-of-focus areas of an image.





	Bokeh

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a quick smut piece for Bo’s birthday, but then I thought too hard about the most recent arc in the manga and how obvious Kenma’s ire towards Tsukki is. So here we are, 10k words later, with this train-wreck.

[Day 1]

Kenma hated training camp.

It wasn’t just the seemingly endless number of games. The penalty laps sucked. Being sweaty and breathless from sunup to sundown wasn’t exactly his thing either. He missed his bed and the privacy of his bedroom. It was rough all around, but that wasn’t even the worst of it.

This was.

Sitting off by himself while everyone else focused on extra practice. He was fine sitting out when he was back home and the team was running drills without him. He was fine sitting out when Kuro went to play soccer with his other friends. He appreciated Kuro’s respect for his alone time, but sitting by himself in a facility full of other people somehow felt lonely.

Terribly, terribly lonely.

The same thing happened last year, he should’ve expected it. It was Kenma’s first year, Kuro’s second. As soon as they arrived, the older boy was already chattering with the friends he has made the year prior. He knew Kenma wouldn’t want to be dragged into the social situation, so he left him behind. Logically, Kenma knew Kuro was looking out for him. Logically, he knew this was an act of compassion, proof of Kuro’s respect and thorough understanding of him. He should be feeling warm fuzzies, taken care of, cherished even.

So why did he feel so alone?

Last year Kenma’s “best friend” status was temporarily replaced with Bokuto Koutarou. He and Kuro had met the year previous and become fast friends; they were inseparable the whole camp. Kuro had introduced Kenma to Akaashi Keiji in much the same way a friend on a date would introduce their third wheels. The two second years had obviously hoped that their everyday best friends would pair up to be camp best friends like they had.

Keiji was nice. Quiet, polite, respectful. Pretty. He made good company. Kenma had to admit, practice was more palatable with another setter to learn from. In the end, he couldn’t share Keiji’s enthusiasm. He kept a cool demeanor, but his willingness to follow Koutarou around and go through all of the extra practice just wasn’t something Kenma could keep up with.

Being a third wheel in a group of three was understandable. Being an unnecessary fourth wheel just felt pathetic. Kenma had been dreading his second year training camp before the first had even ended.

Then he met Shouyo.

And suddenly volleyball was interesting. He had something to look forward to at camp that year. He had been texting the Miyagi boy more than he had every texted anyone in his life. At training camp he would finally get to spend time with him. They would get to play volleyball together and Kenma actually felt excited by the prospect. He could see Kuro getting his hopes up.

Now he was in the reality of it. Shouyo was fine over text. He was fine on the other side of the net. From a distance, the boy radiated energy, leaving Kenma invigorated. From up close, however, Kenma felt drained. Receiving that energy was one thing, keeping up with it was a whole other challenge.  
So here he sat, feeling completely alone. Though his year there was a new shiny thing catching Kuro’s attention: Tsukishima Kei. Kenma was reduced to fifth wheel, if he could even consider himself a wheel anymore.

Why did he have to be friends with the most enthusiastic volleyball players in Tokyo? Why couldn’t they be more like the Karasuno second years who just kind of vaporized off the court as soon as official practice as done, disappearing into quieter activities?

He received his answer when he looked up from his handheld to see Kuro’s grin after a successful block. The older boy looked so alive on the court. He was animated and charismatic. The Kuro who read quietly on his bedroom floor and the Kuro who inspired his team were two very different sides of the same coin. And he loved them both— he loved being the one to see them both.

His friendship with Shouyo was much the same. The boisterous boy became quiet and serious in private.

Kenma set his handheld aside and focused on the players before him. He supposed that was his type: big personalities that became small behind closed doors. He liked the privacy, the possession, that came to being privy to that secret quiet person.

Kei blocked a spike from Koutarou. A brave move for someone just learning, those spikes were intense. Kuroo gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, which turned into an awkward half hug. Kei’s back went stiff; Kuro was laughing, teasing, pulling the first year closer until he relaxed his shoulders. Kenma swore he could see a small smile starting to crack that stone-set face.

On the other side of the net, he noticed Keiji scrutinizing Koutarou’s reaction. Koutarou wasn’t like Kuro or Shouyo, he didn’t hide his duality. His small, dejected self didn’t hesitate to surface in front of everyone. Today he seemed extra agitated. Kenma noted the look he shot Kei behind the younger’s back.

Ah.

So someone else was feeling jilted by the newcomer’s appearance.

Kenma had half the motivation to cheer the owl on, united against a common enemy, but the moment to cheer had passed and now it just felt awkward. He did manage to lock eyes with Koutarou just before Keiji set the next spike, giving him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

The ball blasted past Kei’s arms, grazing the boy and slamming into the ground with a satisfying slap. Kenma couldn’t help but quietly applaud in accompaniment to Koutarou’s celebratory hooting. Round gold eyes sought him out, seeking approval. Of all people, Koutarou as seeking his approval. Kenma gave him two thumbs up. Kuro followed Koutarou’s gaze, giving Kenma a quizzical look before returning to their drill.

Slipping his handheld back into his pocket, Kenma paid idle attention to the rest of the drill. He thought he had already drawn all of the information he could out of the Fukurodani pair. Apparently he had missed something in exactly what kind of affirmation it took to keep Koutarou afloat.

As soon as he saw Keiji calling it a night, Kenma made himself scarce before he was roped into cleaning. Kuro couldn’t help but huff a laugh when he looked up and saw the bleachers empty. “Tsukki, help me sweep up. Akaashi and Bo’ll wrangle the balls.”

The younger boy grumbled at the nickname, but accepted the dry mop all the same. Bo ran laps collecting they rouge balls in record time, Akaashi barely lifting a finger.

“Hurry up, if we go fast enough maybe we can catch Kenma before he heads to bed.”

“You can go ahead, Bo, but you’re probably already too late. Knowing him, he’s buried in his futon by now. He doesn’t like to dilly dally around people he’s not comfortable with. Tsukki and I’ll hang back and finish cleaning the gym. If you find him before he tucks in, make sure he drinks a water bottle and gets some food.”

“‘Kay!!” Bo was already flying out of the gym.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Akaashi gave Kuro a knowing look.

The older boy grinned, “oh, definitely. We’re good.”

Akaashi left with a sigh, turning towards the dorms. “Don’t be out too late, Kenma will notice.”

As predicted, Kenma had made himself scarce. He slid through the bathroom full of rowdy boys just long enough to wash his face and brush his teeth. The dorm was full of reasonable teammates who were appropriately tired after a day of physical exertion. It was blissfully quiet and dim. Mori greeted him like it was a check mark on his attendance list. He drifted off to sleep processing the plays he had catalogued through the day.

A few hours later he was awoken by the uneasy feeling of being stared at. The room was pitch black. Tora’s soft snoring could be heard, signaling that even the rowdiest of the boys had gone to bed. Next to him, a Cheshire grin gleamed in the dark.

“Kuro,” his voice cracked between being exhausted and being startled, “are you just now getting in?”

“I did it, Kenma, I have experienced the hot blooded passion of youth.”

“You’re saying… things.. not getting through. Please make sense, you woke me up.”

“I stayed behind to clean the gym with Tsukki-chan. We got to talking— well, teasing— honestly, flirting— and then we went to wash off the day’s sweat. The bathroom was empty by then, I guess Yaku had herded everyone to bed. So it was just the two of us. Ah, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears when he approached me in the shower, Kenma, it was just like— better than! Everything I’d ever dreamed of—“

“So you fucked a guy you just met in the shower at training camp, that’s your idea of romance?”

“It’s young summer love, Kenma! Like in the movies. Red hot, intense, quick burning, like the summer sun itself.”  
Kenma swallowed the bile that threatened to escape his throat, “get some sleep, Kuro. I don’t want to have to do more penalty drills tomorrow just because you’re too tired to block.” He rolled over.

He didn’t sleep.

[Day 2]

He picked through his breakfast, letting Lev finish it.

Between lack of sleep and his emotions being a jumbled mess, Kenma expected his mind to be filled with fog, but the air cleared as soon as his sneakers hit the gym floor. Something in him had broken overnight and it set him free. It felt like his vision had gotten wider, sharper, more focused. He managed to maintain eye contact with the Karasuno setter just long enough to make them both uncomfortable.

“Looks like our kitten’s out for blood today,” Kuro smirked as the team circled up. “It’s good to see you fired up.”

 _Yesterday Karasuno was our guest. Today they’re invaders._ “Based on what we saw yesterday, there are a few things I’d like to try. We should experiment now to avoid taking unnecessary risks in a game of consequence.”

“Guide us true,” Kuro shot him a trusting smile.

It was a delicate balance, pushing Karasuno without letting them see the full ferocity that Nekoma could unleash. When the time came, Kenma still wanted them to underestimate how ruthless he could truly be.

The other teams had seen the beginnings of it last year, the origins of scheming Kenma. He was sharpening his claws, honing his game. Soon enough play time would be over. The Karasuno middle blocker loomed across the net. Kenma turned his back to the net, hiding the quirk of his lips. Not now. Right now he’d play nice. In the future, on the real battlefield, he would destroy him. Inevitably, the cat will always put an end to the crow.

 _Cats and birds weren’t meant to be friends._  
  
Kenma had never experienced a satisfaction like watching Karasuno performing their penalty drill. A cruelty he didn’t know he possessed took root that day.

The teams that were already familiar with his play noticed a difference in demeanor, he could see it on their faces after every point Nekoma killed. He held eye contact with third years that previously intimidated him. Not for long, mind you, but he felt a swell of pride at their surprise.

Except Fukurodani. Keiji smirked right back at him, eyebrow quirked.

“Oy! Kenma!”

Koutarou quickly crowded the space across the net. The wide owlish eyes were too intense, boring down on Kenma. His broad shoulders seemed to take up Kenma’s entire field of vision.

An awkward silence fell over them. Koutarou seemed to have forgotten that Kenma wouldn’t respond to him like Kuroo did. Kenma seemed to have forgotten that Koutarou’s eyes were on his face and not his biceps.

“Ah…” Koutarou’s stammering brought Kenma’s eyes back to his face. By the color of his ears, the ace definitely noticed the deviation. “Do your best.”

The best Kenma could muster was a curt nod. Luckily Keiji quickly ushered his ace back into position.

It wasn’t Kenma’s best set of the day.

Or his best match.

Actually, the rest of the day was pretty much shot. Even after they moved on to face other teams, Kenma could feel Koutarou’s eyes glancing over at him from across the gym. He felt his attention shifting from time to time as well. It seemed that for as long as they’d been friends, they’d only seen each other through Kuro-colored glasses. Now that Kuro was distracted with antagonizing the Karasuno blocker, their eyes were adjusting, refocusing.

Dinner just made matters worse. Usually Kuro sat flanked by his two best friends, always the divider between Kenma and Koutarou. Now he insisted on bothering his conquest. Kenma landed naturally in his spot next to Kuro. Koutarou was displaced.

Kenma seemed to be the only one who noticed the ace’s flustered dilemma as the blonde took his seat. He tapped the boy’s hand gently, nodding at the empty space next to him. With a sigh of relief, Koutarou swung his legs over the bench next to Kenma.

It was a mistake that Kenma spent the entire meal trying to ignore. Koutarou’s thighs bulged against Kenma’s side. Kneepads set aside for the day, Kenma could feel every heated inch of Koutarou’s skin from hip to ankle.

What was it Kuro had said? ‘The hot-blooded passion of youth.’ Kenma cursed hormones. He cursed tight spaces. He cursed Tsukishima Kei for taking Kuro away.

Thankfully Shouyo came to sit across from him. He had a distraction from the smell of Koutarou’s sweat wafting from his broad chest.

“Kenma!” The sun from his face was overwhelming, drowning out the suggestions his mind drew from the veins on Koutarou’s forearm. “How did you do that last set? It was amazing! You made the ball look weightless and then BLAM Tora slammed it down like it was a ka-gillion kilograms!”

“I know right?!” Koutarou’s exclamation made Kenma jump. “Kenma’s tosses always surprise me. He’s so grounded but then he makes the ball look like a feather! Akaashi always looks like he’s on his toes, all elegant and aloof. Kenma’s like… like a kitten!”

“A kitten?” He turned to the boy next to him, not entirely sure how to take the comment.

“You know like… like… how you’d expect a kitten to fight really clumsy and be easily defeated, but man! Have you ever had a kitten climb your pant leg? They’re determined, their claws dig deep, and they don’t care if they draw blood.”

“A kitten.” Kenma knew it was meant to be a compliment, but he couldn’t help but feel neutered. Sitting between Koutarou and Kuro, he was suddenly aware of his completely average stature. He felt closer to Shouyo. The petite redhead focused all of his youthful passion into volleyball. He needed to remember to keep his passions focused on things more suitable to his demeanor. He slipped his handheld out of Kuro’s jacket pocket.

“Hinata, we’re planning on doing some more extra practice tonight if you wanted me to show you that spike.”

“Really?!” Shouyo’s admiration for Koutarou brought the smile back to Kenma’s face. “I’ll be there! Count me in!”

“We could really use another setter, Kenma,” Koutarou gently nudged him to make sure he wasn’t too immersed in his game yet. “I want to try spiking one of those feather-light balls. Would you come set for me?”

He felt the red creeping into his ears and across his face. Kenma rocked his hair forward to hide his blush. “I- I need to shower. I’m already too sweaty.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Koutarou tried peering through to give Kenma his best puppy dog eyes.

Kenma hunched his shoulders, “maybe.”

“Yes!”

“Set for me too, Kenma!”

“What does that make me, your old hag?” Keiji crossed his arms on the other side of Koutarou.

“‘Kaashiiiii! Don’t be like that, I have to learn to work with other setters if I’m gonna be on the Olympic team someday. Unless.. ah! Akaashi! Are you going to the Olympics with me!?”

Keiji’s soft smile humored his excited teammate “if only I could, Bokuto-san, but I’m afraid I’m no match for Miya Atsumu.”

“That’s no problem, we’ll just practice harder!” Koutarou’s smile broadened as Shouyo cheered on his enthusiasm. Kenma felt them draining the last of his energy, allowing himself to fall completely into his game, isolating himself.  
Despite the distracting blonde, Kuro still knew him best, he was still his best friend. Kenma barely felt the broad hand rest on the small of his back. He stayed tuned out of the conversation and allowed himself to be lead back to the dorms. Kuro’s hand didn’t leave his back until he was safely deposited back into the dorm room.

The others waited outside. Shouyo and Koutarou could be heard riling one another up. Kenma focused on the familiar hands smoothing his hair and tilting his chin. Locking eyes, Kuro smiled down at him.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth and fill your water bottle before you fall asleep, ‘kay? Yaku will know if you skip.”

Kenma scrunched his nose, but nodded.

“Don’t wait up,” with a wink, Kuro was out the door. Kenma listened to his boisterous friends fade down the hall.

He didn’t know that loneliness could get heavier, but he didn’t have the energy to follow.

Kenma didn’t wake when Kuro finally made his way back. He slept soundly, dreaming dreams that he wouldn’t dare confess.

[Day 3]

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi stood over his futon, already dressed and ready for the day— most of Fukurodani was. Except for Bokuto, who was still wrapped snuggly in his blankets.

“‘Kaashiii… good morning,” he smiled lazily. He didn’t know why the rest of the team was too scared to wake him up, he was a ray of sunshine always, but he wasn’t about to complain about Akaashi’s face being the one he woke up to.

“You have ten minutes before breakfast closes.”

“Akaashi!!” The captain leapt out of bed, heart rate spiking. He’d already pulled on his shorts and grabbed his tank-top before he actually looked at a clock. “Heyyyy…we still have 45 minutes. I could have kept sleeping.”

“But aren’t you much more invigorated now?”

Bokuto grinned at his setter, “yeah, I am. Thank you, ‘kaashi. It was still mean though!”

The team walked to breakfast together. Bokuto glowed at the sense of loyalty, how they all waited to start the day together. He could spend dinner with his friends on other teams, but breakfast was about coming together as a team to conquer the day.

Then why couldn’t he focus on a single word Akaashi was saying?

Maybe it was because Kuroo was the loudest person in the room at the moment. He stood at the head of the Nekoma table, giving a rousing speech. Bokuto couldn’t make out what he was saying either, but that was normal for Kuroo’s speeches. His eyes drifted to Kuroo’s right hand; Kenma watched his captain with a blank expression, absently sipping his orange juice.

He felt the smile unfurl on his face. The quiet setter filled Bokuto with a sense of peace. He had a feeling that Kenma’s presence could be a shelter from his bad moods. He wanted to find out. He wanted to know the man who hid behind the boisterous Kuroo Tetsurou, the secret heart and brain of Nekoma. He wanted to know what it was about this introverted, quick witted setter that brought the energetic team Nekoma to their knees in reverence. He wanted—

“Bokuto-san, are you listening?”

“Ah… sorry Akaashi. It was a late night.”

“I know, I was there. Drink your juice so you’ll be more focused on the court.”

The court was worse. Not that he had any trouble thrashing most of the other teams. Actually, his need to show off overwhelmed his usual triggers. He felt more powerful and ruthless than ever before, the feeling compounding every time he caught Kenma looking. It was just one match that gave him trouble.

Kuroo grinned at him from the other side of the net. Normally this was reason to grin back, so he did, but the cockiness behind it was fake. He couldn’t meet Kuroo’s eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about ogling his childhood friend for the past couple of days filled Bokuto with guilt. It wasn’t like Kuroo owned Kenma, right? Kenma was his own person, he didn’t need Kuroo’s blessing. But he felt like maybe he should ask for it.

And then the other issue. When crushing on the opposing team’s setter, do you show off your best game or do you go easy on him? He knew Kenma was easily tired, he didn’t want to be blamed for exhausting him. Especially since he was still hoping they’d get extra practice in tonight. But he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, either. He wanted it to be a fun game, and it wouldn’t be fun if he didn’t give it his all.

He absolved to go just a notch below all-out. Kenma wasn’t a sore loser, right? He wouldn’t hate him for winning. Not to brag, but Bokuto knew he looked good when he was on top of his game. So maybe he did show off a little. The score stayed tight, the volleys stayed invigorating. They were having fun.

Then came the moment of hesitation. Match point. Bokuto had a clear shot to slam the ball down. It was going to be clean, beautiful. Kenma’s fingers breached the top of the net just as Bokuto’s palm came down on the ball. He knew that if Kenma blocked it, the force he was applying would hurt.

He hesitated.

His palm shifted.

The ball rocketed at an uncalculated angle.

Bokuto saw the finger bend back. He heard the sharp intake of breath. The ball hit the ground. So did Kenma. The whistle blew. The scoreboard changed. Most of Fukurodani cheered. Nekoma didn’t seem phased by the score. They held their breath as their captain fussed over their setter.  
“Kenma, Kenma I’m so sorry. Kenma—“ Bokuto tried to apologize as he was lead to first aid.

It wasn’t long before Kuroo came back to him. “It’s just a little sprain, it’ll heal in no time. Puts a damper on his setting for the rest of the day though,” he elbowed him playfully, “was taking out our beloved setter the only way you could think of to beat us? Huh?”

“No, no, it was an accident,” he knew, logically he knew, that Kuroo was joking, but it didn’t stop the dark mood from creeping into his head. “We were having fun. It was a good game. I would never—“

“Bo, Bo calm down,” Kuroo wrapped an arm around him rubbing small circles on his back, “we know it was an accident. Kenma’s not even mad. In fact, he’s probably glad he has an excuse to skip out the rest of the day.”

“Hey, why are you comforting him, I’m the injured one,” Kenma interrupted them, holding his newly splinted finger up for them to see.

“Kenmaaa! I’m so sorry!” Bokuto grabbed his slender wrist in order to inspect the bandage.

“It’s your loss, I won’t be able to set for you tonight.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

Kuroo laughed, “oh yes, subjecting Kenma to a night of video games instead of volleyball is probably the worst thing you could have done. You owe him big time.”

“Oh! I know! I’ll skip practice tonight too! I’ll stay back and play games with you so you’re not lonely while everyone else is out.”

Kenma hid his face, making it difficult for Bokuto to judge his reaction. “You don’t have to do that…”

“That’s a great idea. Keep our precious setter company and make sure he doesn’t over exert himself. Nurse him back to health for us. Only then will you have atoned for your sins against Nekoma.” Kuroo clapped him on the shoulder. That was all the blessing Bokuto could ask for.

On his way to the Nekoma dorm room, Bokuto made sure to hunt down every spare blanket and pillow he could find. Unsuspecting Kenma huddled under his blanket, the glow of his handheld the only sign of life under the mound.

Carefully, Bokuto tiptoed around Nekoma’s belongings to drop his armful of linens on the futon. “Where is Kenma?! I could have sworn he came back here! Unless he snuck off to practice after all!”

The smaller boy dug his way out of the bedding, sputtering, “you’re supposed to be nursing me back to health, not smothering me to death.”

Bokuto grinned. He looked absolutely adorable, hair mussed from the blankets, pout on his lips. “You’re in the care of an owl, so I gotta build you a nest.” He knelt down next to Kenma, rearranging the pillows behind them and the blankets around them, snuggling in close. “What’cha playing?”

“It’s a puzzle game called ‘The Gardens Between.’ You manipulate time to solve the puzzles.”

Bokuto leaned in to watch Kenma play. Calloused thumbs tapped purposefully across the controls, knowing the exact amount of pressure needed to command the device without wasting time or effort. “It’s really pretty.”

“Yeah, the graphics make it look like a dream.”

“Oh, yeah, they’re really good graphics,” he swallowed uncomfortably. He wasn’t entirely sure anyone outside of Nekoma and Hinata had gotten to spend time alone with Kenma, much less gotten him to talk. This felt like a blessed opportunity. He felt obligated to make the most of it. “How’s the plot?”

Kenma was quiet for a moment as he worked out a complicated part of the level. “These two are childhood best friends who ended up in this strange land. The puzzles revolve around the memories they have together. It’s kind of like a coming-of-age in retrospect, looking back on how important they were to each other in childhood.”

“Kind of like you and Kuroo?”

Kenma’s thumb taps got rougher, but he remained silent, shoulders tense. When the level chimed victorious, Kenma heaved a sigh. A bittersweet childhood moment began to play on the screen. His shoulders dropped. He reset the game.

“Wait, you won, why are you resetting?” Bokuto shifted for a better view, alleviating his tired neck by resting his chin on Kenma’s shoulder.

“It’s a short game and that was the second to last level. I don’t want to beat it yet.” Kenma propped his arm against his leg, providing Bokuto support as he leaned against the smaller boy.

“You haven’t beat it yet?”

“…no… it’s… no I haven’t.”

“Is the last level really hard? I can try if you want.”

“No, that’s not… it’s just sad. I’m afraid that the ending will be sad. You spend the whole game reliving their friendship from the day one moved in next door. I’m afraid that when the game ends… it’ll end.”

“Oh.”

Bokuto knew he wasn’t as quick witted an cunning as a lot of his friends, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. As the game restarted, all he could see was Kuroo and Kenma’s childhood laid out before him. Houses standing next to each other in the night, open windows throwing light out into a stormy night. Kids who spent days and nights knowing that their best friend was just a yard away in the other window.

Bokuto remembered the dark feeling that crept into him as Kuroo praised Tsukishima for blocking his spike. He remembered the jealous feeling, thinking that Kuroo was replacing him. Now he multiplied those feelings by years of childhood friendship and loneliness. He tried to imagine how Kenma felt.  
For a beat he hesitated, but his need to comfort the setter overwhelmed him. He sat up and wrapped an arm across Kenma’s shoulder, pulling him close to his chest. “You know you’re irreplaceable, right? Kuroo would never—could never replace you.”

“He’s going to university next year. He’ll have to.” Kenma’s quick retort proved Bokuto right, that his mind was already on the topic.

“But you’ll still be his best friend.”

“I’m his best friend at home. He’s gonna have to make new best friends when he moves away, just like how he makes new best friends here at camp. It’s not his fault, it’s natural. I can’t expect him to be lonely and friendless when I’m not there.”

“You mean like you are?”

Kenma pulled back, fixing Bokuto with a glare that could kill. “Excuse me? Did you just call me lonely and friendless? I am perfectly capable of keeping my own company and making friends without Kuro.”

“Ah! I’m sorry! It’s just— you look so alone when Kuroo’s not with you. I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry.”

“I have plenty of friends. I could have asked Shouyo or anyone on the team to come keep me company and they would have. I just know they’d rather be practicing. That’s what they’re here for anyway, so they should. You could go too, if you wanted. I’m fine with my game.” He went back to playing, shifting back to a comfortable position next to Bokuto.

“Thank you, but I’d like to stay if that’s okay. I don’t get to spend a lot of time with you. Kuroo’s got Tsukki, anyway, he doesn’t need me.”

Kenma attempted to hide his face, but Bokuto could see a blush creeping across the boy’s neck. His face reflected in the screen was scrunched in frustration. “What about Keiji? Won’t he miss you?”

“I think he was planning on trading poetry texts with the Karasuno ace tonight. Turns out they both have a taste for classic literature. He wants to pick his brain as much as possible before he goes back to Miyagi for forever.”

“The hot blooded passion of youth, huh.”

“What’s—“ Bokuto’s question dropped dead as an open palm pressed against his chest. Warm fingers cupped his chin, closing his dropped jaw. Kenma pressed his forehead against the spiker’s, holding his silence in a predatory gaze.

Bokuto felt like the tension could kill him. Every muscle in his body tensed; his blood burned. His arms were around Kenma’s back, every fiber tensed but holding the moment as if it could break at a second’s carelessness. Kenma wasn’t backing off yet, even though it felt like he’d been waiting for hours.

Bokuto closed the distance, allowing Kenma to angle his face with surprising tenderness. The kiss was anything but. Bokuto had kissed girls before, there was a short string of ex-girlfriends on his record, but none of them shared Kenma’s fire. His exes tended to act innocent and cautious on the first kiss.

Kenma was clumsy and insistent.

In his excitement to return the kiss, Bokuto let his arms fully press Kenma to his chest. The boy shifted to straddle his lap, arms and legs wrapping around Bokuto. There was no escaping this, they couldn’t deny what was happening. The dam had broken and every frustration that had been building came rushing forward.

He knew full well that with Kenma in his lap, it wouldn’t be long until the second year noticed the excitement trapped under his thigh. Bokuto smirked into the kiss, pushing Kenma’s lower back to bring him fully flush. The tiny sound that escaped Kenma’s throat brought as much satisfaction as the bulge he could feel against his stomach.

Kenma’s hands were exploring Bokuto’s back before he’d even noticed the boy had rucked up his shirt. Bokuto had a handful of Kenma’s hair when he heard the voices. They broke away at once, eyes locked and chests heaving.

“Lev.”

“Luckily he’s loud, huh?” Bokuto tried to play it cool, as if he wasn’t seconds from losing control a moment ago, as Kenma climbed off him. He ran his fingers through Kenma’s hair to straighten it.

“For once I’m thankful for it,” Kenma slapped pillows over their laps and picked up with handheld as the door swung open.

“Kozume-san! You’re still up!” Lev bounded unto the room.

“How’s your hand?” Yaku wasn’t far behind, kneeling beside the futon to inspect Kenma’s injury. Both he and Bokuto shifted, trying to hide how wrecked their faces probably looked.

“It stopped hurting. I’ve just been playing my game; Koutarou’s been making sure I don’t have to lift a finger,” he shot the ace a stern look.

“Y-yeah,” Bokuto’s voice crackled, “we’ve just been trying to beat this game. Maybe tomorrow we can finish it, right Kenma?” He stood, still wobbly in the knees, keeping a pillow hugged to himself.

“Ahhh,” Kenma turned bright red before he could even think to hide his reaction, “y-yeah. Maybe. I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a date!” He grinned and showed himself out, waving goodbye to the entering Nekoma team. As soon as he was out of sight, he let his legs go back to jelly, leaning on the wall for support.

He hadn’t meant for it to be innuendo. He honestly thought that beating the game would be good for Kenma. Not to mention he wanted to see how it ended. But now Kenma definitely thought he had impure intentions.

And he was down for it.

Panic started rising in Bokuto’s throat. Should he try to sneak out to a corner store? Should he… should he trim? Not to mention the nagging sensation left over in his pants. He resigned to take care of that first.

There was a spare storage room down a hallway between dorms. He and Kuroo found it last year by accident. Kuroo… normally he could go to Kuroo for advice. He would know what supplies to get and where to get them. But something about asking for Kuroo’s advice to seduce his best friend felt dangerous.

Anxiety started to clench in. What was this? Where was this going? Was this something to keep a secret from Kuroo? If it was just a camp fling, then there was no reason to disclose it, right? They’re just hormonal boys trapped in close corners, they couldn’t be blamed, right?

As he reached the spare room, Bokuto shook is head clear and focused on the task at hand.

He pulled his shorts down just enough to free himself, bracing against the door so no one could enter after him. Enough slick had leaked while he was trapped under Kenma that his palm slid down his length with relative ease. His fingers focused on massaging the head of his cock, coaxing more into his palm.

Kenma’s thighs were nice. He’s always dismissed the setter as scrawny, petite, but he actually had muscle to him. Bokuto had him fully in his lap, legs around his hips. He could feel everything. In that position, Kenma’s muscles were soft, warm. His chest was a solid weight against Bokuto’s, he could still feel the residual weight of it against him.

Palm sufficiently slick, Bokuto started with a few slow strokes. What would have happened if Nekoma hadn’t come back so soon? He had almost lost his resolve to not grind up against Kenma’s ass. He could feel the front of Kenma’s shorts growing wet against his abs. Would they have come like that? Dry humping, in their pants, while kissing?

He had to grab himself at the base to keep from coming at the memory; somehow the kiss felt like the most forbidden part of the encounter. It was heated, passionate, wanton. There was an intimacy about it that pleaded something beyond teenage hormones.

What was he going to do when Kenma kissed him tomorrow? Knowing Kenma, he would drag him somewhere secluded, where people wouldn’t stare. God, what he wouldn’t give for Kenma to sneak him off the court and corner him under the bleachers. Bokuto would lift him and he’d wrap his legs around like he had tonight. He’d brace him against the wall so he could grind against him. His hand picked up momentum at the thought. He’d have to kiss Kenma to keep him quiet. They’d both still be sweaty from playing. He imagined what Kenma’s sweat-laden kisses would taste like. He imagined what the rest of Kenma must taste like.

Just the thought of what Kenma’s neck would look like, offered for Bokuto’s consumption, was enough to send him over the edge. It hit him too suddenly for him to hide the accompanying whine. The wet sound of those last strokes echoed through the room as come splattered the floor.

It took a few minutes of leaning against the door before his legs stopped shaking. When he was able to stand, he stripped off his shorts and briefs, replacing the shorts and using the briefs to mop up the mess. He made his walk of shame back to the Fukurodani dorm, dirty briefs balled up in his palm like some kind of panty thief.  
When he returned, Akaashi was the only one still up, his nose in a book. He looked up when Bokuto entered. His eyes didn’t miss the unholy artifact in his hand. Like a saint, he said nothing, waited for Bokuto to climb into his futon, and clicked off the light.

[DAY 4]

The first emotion of the day was disgust. Kenma stirred to wake and all he could feel was the mix of crust lining the inside of his boxers and the stickiness that hadn’t crusted yet. He had meant to clean up last night, but Mori’s constant mothering had him under watchful eyes the whole night.

He was thankful for the morning hustle to get freshened up and slip into clean clothes. For once, Kuro was the one lagging behind. Three bouts of late nights and early mornings were finally taking their toll. Kenma couldn’t help but smirk.

“How’s practice going? You better not teach Kei how to block my feints or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Oh? And how are you planning on doing that?” Kuro bumped him playfully on their walk to breakfast.

“I’ll tell my mom that you were the one who scratched the side of her car.”

“Kenma! That was five years ago, she’s not still mad about that is she? Are we past the stature of limitations? She wouldn’t still ground me, would she?”

“Don’t teach Kei how to beat me.”

“Ooorrrr… I could teach him and that’ll give me an excuse to drag you out for more practice so you can learn to beat him back. And then you’ll develop a healthy rivalry that drives you both to be the best volleyball players of our time. You’ll beat out the Miya twins!”

“You’re the worst. I’m telling mom.”

“Kenma!” Kuro hefted him up by his armpits, holding him helpless, “you wouldn’t! Tell me you won’t!”

“If you don’t put me down, I’ll tell her about the rice cooker too.”

“Nooooo, you wouldn’t,” Kuro clutched him to his chest, fake crying into Kenma’s shoulder.

“Do you really want me to tell her what happened to her favorite spatula as well?”

“A demon, Kenma, you’re a secret demon,” he set the boy down, smile on his face betraying the fake hurt in his voice.

“And you love me for it, don’t lie.”

“I do. God, yes I do,” the taller boy laughed, “guide us to victory today, demon king Kenma.”

They got their food, sat to eat, and Kenma immediately started laying down observations and possible strategies to use against their opponents developing abilities. It might have been the most he ever talked in one sitting. He didn’t want to lose focus for even a minute. He didn’t know how to handle meeting Koutarou’s eyes across the room, so he kept his eyes on his team.

A small part of him wanted to show off as well. Koutarou’s “friendless” comment still stung. He was determined to show his most competent, independent side today. He wasn’t lonely, he just preferred being alone.

Okay.

That was a lie.

He had spent most of camp feeling lonely. But that wasn’t the norm, this was: being surrounded by his team’s encouragement. In a game of chess, he’d be their king piece. Sometimes the king gets left on a corner of the board by itself to avoid capture, but even then it’s still the most cherished piece of the set.

Even when the queen kept sneaking off to flirt with the enemy’s pawn.

“Kuro,” he called the boy’s attention back from the Karasuno table, “how’s Kei’s block coming along?”

“He’s getting better at timing his jump.”

“Okay, and he’s been practicing with you and Keiji, so he’s used to blocking for people who jump at a similar rate as he does. There’s Shouyo as well, so we can expect him to block anyone his height and shorter. If we utilize Lev, we should be able to mess with his timing.”

“Targeting Kei specifically? What did he do to deserve your target? Isn’t Shouyo’s quick a bigger threat?”

“With all of the time you’ve been spending together, he’s the player we now know the most of. Plus we have to be ready for whatever you’ve been teaching him.”

Something in that interaction caught Mori’s attention. He quirked a questioning glance at Kuro, who sputtered.

“W-what about our first match of the day. What obstacles are we facing there?”

Kenma threw himself into the next set of notes, continuing his presentation for the remainder of breakfast.

Stepping onto the court was a different story. Immediately he locked eyes with Koutarou. His eyes didn’t seem to even notice that the rest of the room existed. His face started heating as he saw a twin blush spread across Koutarou’s cheeks.

The more muscular boy waved his arm, “oy!”

“Hey hey hey! Good morning, Bo!” Kuroo bounded over, slamming into his friend chest first.

Kenma followed, though he wasn’t sure how their greeting should go. Normally they’d just say “hey” or give at most a small wave, but that didn’t feel appropriate anymore. Koutarou seemed to hesitate for a moment as well, before scooping an arm around Kenma, drawing him into a side hug. Kenma accepted the gesture, taking advantage of the chance to press his cheek into that pectoral.

Kuro didn’t seem to notice, so he didn’t bother to back off.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious setter yesterday, but don’t think you’re off the hook,” Kuro pointed a menacing finger to Koutarou’s nose, “we’re very protective of our Kenma and we’re planning on avenging him today.”

Kenma felt Koutarou’s spine straighten, hands falling to his sides, getting into proper posture, “no worries, sir, I assure you I have no intentions of hurting your— setter. I’ll treat him like a gentleman and have him home by ten.” He probably would have kept rambling if Kenma hadn’t nudged him with an elbow.

Kuro just laughed, clapping Koutarou on the shoulder, “I’m watching you, young man.”

The whistle blew and the boys turned to rejoin their teams. Kenma and Koutarou exchanged a small wave goodbye before taking their places on the court.

He could feel Koutarou’s eyes sizing him up from across the gym. The blood in his veins felt different than before. Before he was out to put Kei in his place. He was motivated by spite and jealousy. Now he was haunted by the memory of his pulse in his ears, Koutarou’s breath across his skin. His mind kept skipping forward to their plans for tonight. Kenma was trying to smother his nervousness with self-confidence: and right now the only confidence he could summon came from Koutarou’s previous complements on his sets.

When all was said and done, he wanted to be wanted. Kuro’s attention was elsewhere, but Koutarou wanted him for some reason or another. So Kenma would drum up the only appeal he could think of. He couldn’t help but grin to himself as his dump won a match. He glanced across the gym to see if Koutarou had seen, but he was swept off the ground before his eyes found their target.

Kuro had him hugged to his chest, swinging him around to the center of the court. “Way to steal the glory! What’s got you all riled up, huh? Showing Shorty that he’s not the only impressive one?” He could feel Kuro’s laughter vibrating through his chest. “Don’t go exposing all your tricks just to show off, we wanna be able to catch them off guard in a real game.”

“Awwww, Kenma, I was really excited to kill that one!” Lev hunched over him as Kuro set his feet back on the floor.

“Come on, we have thirty minutes to grab a snack and rehydrate. Don’t waste it,” Mori urged them off the court.

The team huddled around a bench. Kenma took a seat near Kuro’s feet, munching on the banana that was offered him. Kuro kept urging him to finish his water bottle.

Fukurodani was schooling Karasuno on the court. Shouyo had extra energy today; practicing in a group like this seemed to boost his enthusiasm. It helped that Koutarou was egging him on. The boy shared excitement with everyone around him, friends and foe alike.  
“What’s the smile for?”

Kenma jumped, his shoulder bumping Kuro’s chin. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” He chided as Kuro rubbed his jaw.

“Koutarou’s gonna break Kei’s block this volley. It might be better if he didn’t jump for it, save his hand the punishment.”

“He really is going hard today. He and Shorty just complete a positive feedback loop, don’t they.”

As if on cue, round owlish eyes locked onto them. A quick grin and Koutarou was back in the game. “Yeah, he’s really good at building others up. I assumed he’d be the selfish type, demanding attention.”

“I mean, what spiker doesn’t love attention? Isn’t that kind of the point? Pretty sure you could guarantee that any spiker has a praise kink.”

“Is that a confession?” Kenma bumped Kuro’s knee. Though the first time Koutarou really noticed him was when Kenma praised his spike against Kei. With his mood swings, praise was probably especially effective.

It felt like a new notebook was being cracked open in Kenma’s brain: Kinks and Sexual Habits of Volleyball Players. The pages were being rapidly populated whether or not he wanted that information. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this new catalog of information. He tried not to notice the pages where he met the criteria. He tried to mentally crumple and burn Kuro’s page. Regardless of whether or not it described him, he didn’t want to know.

Scrutinizing Koutarou’s interactions with his teammates and previous conversations, Kenma focused on filling that page.

Praise kink, definitely. Easily envious and discouraged, so a probable preference for people of other body types and specialties. Gentle. Kenma thought back to how hesitant Koutarou was to seize him. Attentive. Kind.

His stomach flipping gave him vertigo. Kuro’s idealistic description of summer love sounded fluorescent, heated, exciting, short lived. Did Koutarou feel the same way? Did Kenma even feel that way? He supposed it might be healthy to do some soul searching and define the relationship before it went any further physically, but that was not a topic Kenma was ready to breach. He steeled himself to deal with that in the aftermath. He wanted to enjoy what they had before reality crashed it.

That’s the point of summer love, right? A crazy, passionate, blip outside of reality.

The whistle blew for Nekoma to return to the court for their next match. Kenma tried to postpone any further introspection by focusing on the game in front of him. Time flew by until it was time for dinner.

The Fukurodani captain beat them to the table, Kuro sitting next to him with what he supposed was enough space for Kenma to fit. He sighed. They always seemed to overestimate how much smaller he was than they were. Just because they were hulking jocks didn’t mean Kenma was any smaller than the average boy his age.

He wedged his way between the captain’s shoulders, swinging a leg between them. Koutarou turned to greet him, grinning wide enough to make his eyes seem small. For all of his earlier anxiety, Kenma breathed a sigh of relief at that grin.

“‘Kaashi, move down a bit so Kenma can fit.”

“Or he can just sit on your lap,” Keiji’s eyes bore into Kenma’s as if he saw right through him. Even if it was just a joke, Kenma was sure that the red creeping up both their necks was a dead giveaway.

“‘Gaashi!” That wasn’t a pitch Kenma knew Koutarou could hit.

“Fine, fine,” he smirked as he broke eye contact and shuffled down the bench.

Kenma hadn’t been this close to Koutarou since the night before. He was immediately overwhelmed with his scent, sweat soaked and fresh off the court. His arm brushed hard muscle, remembering how they felt grasping him.

He tried not to jump when a firm hand came to rest on his knee, thumb rubbing comforting circles. The sensation was grounding, similar to how Kuro would hold his shoulder during anxious situations. He wondered if Koutarou had been watching all this time, picking up on their interactions, building his own “How to Care for Kenma” manual, or if he was just naturally good at comforting.

Kenma wrapped his hand around the forearm resting on his thigh, squeezing and caressing at intervals. Kuro was animatedly telling a story to the table. He didn’t notice Koutarou attempting to eat with his non-dominant hand.

Keiji noticed. “I’m going to the corner store after dinner. Do you need anything, Bokuto-san?” The whisper was just loud enough for Kenma to hear it over Kuro’s story.

Koutarou stammered for a moment, “can I go with you? I want to see if they have a very specific flavor of sports drink.”

“Kozume-san, would you like to join us?”

He knew it was a trap. Even if Keiji said nothing the whole trip, he would give them that look and they’d spill everything and be forced to confront reality. Kenma wasn’t ready for reality, he wanted to experience the passion of youth, summer romance, all of the things that Kuro had turned to Kei for, before they came back to Earth.

Koutarou just looked mortified. Kenma couldn’t tell which answer he was hoping for, so he swayed the selfish way. “I’m good. The vending machine here has my favorites already.” The sigh of relief and obvious dropping in Koutarou’s shoulders told Kenma he’d chosen correctly. “But don’t forget that we have practice tonight. You begged and pleaded to spike my sets and I’m not staying in these sweaty gym clothes longer than I have to. Hurry back. I’ll be waiting in the gym.”

The grin Koutarou hit him with was blinding, “okay, we’ll be back quick!” He was already up and ready to go, hand around Keiji’s wrist.

“Bokuto-san! Let’s finish dinner first!”

“I’ll buy you something better at the store. We should hurry before the sun sets!” He released Keiji’s arm, but kept going regardless. With a sigh, Keiji followed after.

Kenma had no clue what he was doing. He went to the gym with Kuro and the others. With Keiji out, he had to set for them. Shouyo was ecstatic, which was endearing. Kuro looked proud of him for coming out of his shell. Kei didn’t seem to notice him. It was as if the balls were setting themselves.

“So how did Bo get you to agree to extra practice?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about it the whole time he was taking care of me yesterday,” Kenma lied. He wanted to avoid finishing his video game. Even if Koutarou was just using it as an excuse or euphemism, Kenma wasn’t ready to take that chance. He knew setting for him would be the best distraction. If they had the same luck as Kuro and Kei, maybe it could still end in the hinted euphemism.

“Hey hey hey!” The doors burst open with a “clack!” Koutarou jogged in, out of breath, dropping a shopping bag by the bleachers. Keiji wasn’t far behind.

“There’s six of us now, two of which are setters. How about a three on three?” The Fukurodani setter suggested with a coy smile.

“Yes! Great idea!” Kuro’s face looked close to bursting, as if all his dreams were coming true.

Kenma hadn’t been expecting to put in this much work. He was already tired from earlier. After a few failed sets to Koutarou, he could see the spiker getting discouraged.

“We’re just not syncing. Set it to Hinata-chan, I can’t get it.”

“Give it time,” Kenma gave him an uncharacteristic pat on the shoulder, “you’re doing great, let me meet you halfway. We’ll get it.” He had meant it literally, but the light in Koutarou’s eyes let him know he’d grasped a deeper meaning. Hell, maybe Kenma had meant a deeper meaning. He couldn’t tell anymore.

“We’ve got this,” he confirmed.

Kenma had never seen him celebrate as hard as that first ball killed. He was pretty sure Koutarou’s hooting could be heard from the dorms. In a moment, he had Kenma in his arms, lifting him in victory.

“It was one ball,” Kei monotoned.

“Alright, one more,” Koutarou grinned at his setter.

By the end of practice they’d gotten the general rhythm. Heart rates high, sweating, and out of breath, Koutarou and Kenma grinned as they rushed through cleaning up the gym. As soon as the equipment was tucked away, Koutarou tapped Kenma’s shoulder and ran for the door, grabbing the shopping bag on his way out.  
Kenma checked to see if anyone was paying attention before following him out. He chased the other boy through the grounds, back to the dorms, through dark hallways, and before being yanked into a room, door slammed behind them.

Even in the dark, he knew Koutarou’s figure as he was pinned against the door. Desperate hands pulled at the taller boy’s shirt, wanting those muscles exposed. He couldn’t argue as Koutarou pulled his off too. The feeling of their bare chests pressed together sent his head reeling before Koutarou even started kissing him.

Desperation replaced yesterday’s hesitation. A day’s worth of frustration and adrenaline surged between them.

Kenma’s wandering hand explored Koutarou’s torso, marveling in a physique so different than his own. Deft fingers stole a whine from Koutarou’s lips as they danced across his nipple. Kenma liked that sound. He definitely liked that sound. He brought up both thumbs to massage the nubs, leaving Koutarou panting in his mouth.

“That’s— ah— not fair. I’m supposed to be making you feel good,” his hands slid down the back of Kenma’s shorts much quicker than the boy was prepared for. The involuntary movement to escape the intrusion caused him to thrust his hips forward against Koutarou’s, drawing a groan from both.

“Koutarou—“ nerves started creeping into Kenma’s voice.

Koutarou took a step back, gently tilting Kenma’s chin to look him in the eyes. “Trust me?”

He nodded adamantly.

“If there’s anything you don’t like— if anything makes you uncomfortable— please tell me. We can try something else or stop altogether if you want, okay?”

Kenma nodded again. “I’m just a little nervous,” he admitted. It wasn’t a cool thing to admit, he regretted admitting it, but it slipped out without his permission.

A tender kiss met his lips, reminiscent of the gentleness from the night before, “trust me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Please.”

That was all the encouragement Koutarou needed before dropping to his knees, taking Kenma’s shorts with him. The sudden cold air made Kenma gasp, covering his mouth with both hands to smother the noise. His fully erect cock just barely grazed Koutarou’s cheek as it bobbed into place.

Koutarou shot him a devilish grin before turning his attention to the length begging in front of him. He started at the base, planting a kiss in the junction of Kenma’s thigh while his hand made a light stroke down his cock. A trail of open mouthed kisses from base to tip left Kenma gasping.

“Koutarou— I’m not used to— I’ve never— I don’t think I’ll last long.”

“Hold on,” he reached behind him for the shopping bag. Kenma whined impatiently as he heard a box open. Koutarou struggled with the packaging for what seemed like forever until he heard a cap click open. Moments later that hot mouth was on the tip of his cock, one hand grasping the base to keep him from coming too soon.

Kenma jumped as Koutarou’s other hand smeared a wet path across his ass. His cock bumped the back of Koutarou’s throat, but the boy wasn’t deterred. He sucked diligently as he circled a slicked finger around Kenma’s hole.

“Koutarou, I’m gonna—“

The hand around his base tightened as the first finger breached Kenma’s ring of muscle. Koutarou released Kenma’s cock with a wet “pop,” peppering the boy’s torso with love bites as his fingers continued to coax him open.

“Relax, Kenma, I’ve got you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kenma responded by threading his fingers through Koutarou’s hair, still damp from a day of volleyball, spikes fallen into soft locks. Lips and teeth worshipped at his hips, his stomach, his thighs. Kenma felt loved. Undeniably loved. He had a vague thought that the “passion of youth” was supposed to feel dirtier than this. This felt pure, reverent, holy.

By the time Koutarou had him relaxed around three fingers, Kenma’s mind was a haze of bliss. The taller boy rose to feet his gaze.

“Are you still with me?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Are you sure? We can stop if you’re overwhelmed.”

“If you stop I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

Koutarou laughed, wrapping strong hands around Kenma’s thighs, lifting him and wrapping his legs around his waist. He carried the boy across the room and sat him on a desk with a soft kiss. Kenma was vaugely aware of him kicking off his shorts. He heard the sound of the bottle cap again, feeling Koutarou stroking himself between them. The feeling of Koutarou touching himself was almost enough to send Kenma over the edge.

Strong hands came back to hold the small of Kenma’s back, bringing their bodies flush together. Koutarou let his cock tease along the crease of Kenma’s legs, a few slow grinds just to feel the head of his cock snag on Kenma’s entrance. “I’m going in now.”

“Please.” It came out as much more of a whine than Kenma would have liked.

He hadn’t evaluated how thick Koutarou would be. He felt the blunt girth pushing at his entrance and immediately tensed up.

“Shhh… Kenma… it’s okay. I’ll go slow,” Koutarou caressed his back reassuringly, waiting for Kenma to relax again before pushing any further.

“Ah!” The feeling of his cock breaching that tight ring of muscle was unlike anything Koutarou had felt before. He had to steal himself not to come right there, burying his face in Kenma’s shoulder.

“Y— you can bite… if you want,” Kenma’s voice came in gasps, trying to keep control of the discomfort of intrusion as well as the pleasure of being penetrated.

Koutarou whined, letting himself bite down where Kenma’s shoulder and neck met, pushing himself inch by inch until he was fully sheathed in the smaller boy. They held the position for what felt like eternity, the room full of barely contained whimpers. Koutarou marveled at the feeling of Kenma’s balls pressed against his front, evidence of how perfectly flush they were.

“Koutarou, move.”

There was a new sultry tone to the command. They had abandoned shame, ready to claim pleasure as their own.

A few cautioned thrusts were all Koutarou could manage before Kenma wrapped his legs around him, pulling him in quick and deep. Koutarou was more than happy to oblige. The smell of sweat and sex weighed in the room where their desperate pants echoed off the walls.

Kenma’s orgasm hit him too hard for warning, all he could manage was to pull Koutarou’s head to his chest. Koutarou had never heard a sound as gratifying as Kenma coming, swallowing the aftershock whimpers with a kiss as he followed soon after.

Neither could gather the energy to move for several minutes. Koutarou could feel this softening cock threatening to slip out, but he wasn’t ready to leave Kenma’s warmth yet. He wasn’t ready to lose this connection.

Kenma rested his forehead against Koutarou’s chest, trying desperately to catch his breath, come pooling across his stomach. He didn’t know Koutarou’s embrace could get warmer. As he basked in the afterglow, Kenma saw the soft curves of the third year’s body in a new perspective. He couldn’t even try to suppress a giddy smile.

Koutarou smiled back, followed by a barely withheld laugh as he dotted kisses across Kenma’s face.

“I might love you, Kozume Kenma.”

“You better, if you’re gonna take my virginity in a storage room at training camp.”

“I owe you dinner,” Koutarou laughed, oblivious to the long strides making their way down the hall.

Both boys froze as the door flew open, flooding the room with light. Kenma’s first reaction was to bury his face in Koutarou. Koutarou turned his face to the intruder.

Lev stood slack jawed in the doorway, hall light casting his shadow across the room.

“Bokuto-san! Sorry! I’ll leave you to it!” The door slammed twice as fast as it opened, leaving the two to process what just happened.

“Kuroo is going to kill me,” Koutarou panicked as he grabbed tissues and began mopping the come from Kenma’s thighs.

“I don’t think he saw me. He’ll probably assume I was Keiji,” Kenma tried to convince himself as he dabbed at his stomach.

“Why Keiji? Anyway, we can hope, since you had your face down. But your hair is kind of hard to mistake.”

“Kuroo doesn’t own me.”

“He’s still going to kill me.”

The two went between panic and reassurance as they made their way back to their rooms, tip toeing to separate beds as quietly as possible.

[DAY 5]

Yachi Hitoka didn’t know what she did to deserve this.

She was a good girl. She focused on her studies, got good grades. She spent the nights of training camp on a completely separate property from the boys. She’d never even kissed a boy, despite the times she’d invited Hinata over when her mom wasn’t home.

She never stepped off the straight and narrow. She’d never done anything worth mentioning in a game of “never have I ever.” And yet this morning when she entered the cafeteria, all eyes turned to her. Tanaka and Nishinoya insisted on escorting her and Kiyoko to their table.

“Yacchan, is it true?” Tanaka knelt by her chair, eyes watery. She could feel Kiyoko’s patience running thin next to her, ready to dismiss the boys at the smallest slight.

“Is what—“

“You and Bokuto, are you dating?” Noya crouched over Tanaka’s shoulder, holding a nervous breath.

“N-no, I’ve never even spoken to Bokuto-san,” she felt her face growing red as she glanced across the room. The Fukurodani captain was talking animatedly to his team. “Why, did he say something? Do you think he likes m-me?”

“Tora told me that Yaku told him that Lev said he saw you two… in a compromising position… in a storage room.”

The color drained from her face. “N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-“

“That’s impossible,” Kiyoko interrupted the stuttering girl, “Yachi was with me all night. There’s no way she snuck all the way here and back without me noticing.”

Tanaka and Nishinoya shared a look punctuated with a determined nod. “Don’t worry, Yacchan, we’ll defend your honor.”

“Alright team,” Kuro snapped Kenma’s attention back to their huddle. “Today’s the final day of training camp. Today’s the day to fine tune what we’ve been working on. What we bring to the court today will leave a lasting impression on our opponents, setting their expectations for the rest of the year. Let’s teach them to dread ever facing off against Nekoma. Let’s show them what it means to connect.” He punctuated his speech by smiling at their setter.

Kenma smiled back, wincing as his teammates whooped and patted his back and shoulders. Last night had left him with more bruises than he had expected. It was a pain, but the aches brought him focus, confidence.

On the walk to the gym, Kuro slung an arm across Kenma’s shoulders, fingers digging pointedly into the love bite on his clavicle. “You’re not gonna go easy on Karasuno just because you and Shorty are finally dating, right? Knowing you two, I’m kind of expecting an intense game. You riled each other up under normal circumstances.”

“We’re not dating, we’re just friends,” Kenma rolled his shoulder, not enough to dislodge Kuro’s arm, but enough to move his hand to a less sore spot.

“Kenma, I already saw the marks. You don’t have to hide it from me,” Kuro gave his childhood friend a teasing squeeze, “isn’t it special? The magic of camp, the passion of youth, long nights of summer romance. Such an intense five days, and then they’re sent back to Miyagi. The beauty in the brevity of it all.”

It was a bit selfish, but Kenma let his head rest on Kuro’s chest. Soon Kei would be gone and he’d have Kuro all to himself again. They’d be back in their rooms, windows just a yard apart, surrounded by all the trappings of a childhood spent together. In the mornings, Kuro’s grandparents would make them breakfast, Kenma’s mom would send them off with bentos, they’d walk to school together. Their worlds would revolve around each other again. Simple. Just like it’d been for the past ten years.

He tried not to think about what would happen at the end of the school year. In a few short months, Kuro would clear the game and move on with his life. Kenma couldn’t hit reset on this one, he would be forced to face the end. He wrapped an arm around Kuro’s waist, pulling him closer as they approached the gym.

Large golden eyes immediately locked on his entrance. Koutarou’s face burst into a smile, waving to the Nekoma duo from across the gym.

“Hey Bo!” Kuro released Kenma, jogging to meet the other captain halfway. “Heard you had a pretty successful training camp, too, eh? Making the most of our last year.”

Bokuto laughed nervously, glancing behind Kuroo to Kenma and back, “sometimes you just gotta go for it, ya know? No regrets.”

“Karasuno’s first year manager, though, that’s pretty ballsy. The boys are gonna thrash you on the court for it. Good luck,” he gave the other captain a pitying pat on the shoulder, whistle calling them to their positions before Bo could formulate a response.

Kenma gave him a rare warm smile before running after his teammate.

Bokuto didn’t know if he could call this sinking feeling regret. Maybe guilt. He knew that Kenma and Kuroo were end game, soul mates, whatever anyone would call it. He knew it last year, when the setter spent most of camp hiding behind the budding middle blocker. He knew it even with Kenma on top of him, kissing him.

He felt like a villain, taking advantage of Kuroo’s distraction and Kenma’s broken heart. By the end of the day, said distraction would be on a bus back to Miyagi and Bokuto would have to face what he’d done: slept with his best friend’s soul mate. More than that, deflowered his best friend’s soul mate. He was pretty sure he even said “I love you” in the haze of the after glow.

He was an idiot.

Akaashi wasn’t though. He had been the one to notice Bokuto’s feelings. He’d been the one to drag him to the corner store and help him pick up the right supplies. Despite Bokuto’s embarrassment, Akaashi even explained step by step what he should do to make the experience as pain free as possible for Kenma. Now he watched Bokuto’s mood spiral downwards, the lowest it had been all week.

“You should talk to him. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re telling yourself it is,” the setter tried to persuade him as Bokuto botched another practice serve.

“Look at them, Akaashi, just look at them,” he grumbled, gesturing to where Nekoma was having their match. “They move like they’re— they’re mindlinked or something.”

“They’ve been friends for a very long time. They’ve been teammates since elementary. Of course they’re going to mesh well. That doesn’t mean there’s no room for you in their lives, Bokuto,” Akaashi passed him another ball to practice with. “Don’t we mesh well? Do I not set for you like I know how you work?”

“Of course you do!” This time he sent the serve with too much force, causing it to go out of bounds. “You’re amazing, Akaashi!”

“Are we soul mates? Am I meant to be mad at Kenma for taking what’s mine? Did I not instruct you on how sex with Kenma would work in the first place?”

“‘Kaashi…”

“Why do you think Kuroo wouldn’t be as happy for Kenma as I am for you?”

“Cause he loves him, Akaashi! Look at the way he looks at him!”

“Again, why do you think Kuroo wouldn’t be as happy for Kenma as I am for you?”

The question ticked in Bokuto’s ears for a few seconds as he set another ball, landing it perfectly in the corner of the court. “Oh.”

He turned to really take in the setter’s expression. Akaashi met his gaze fearlessly, but the pink tinting his cheeks and ears gave him away.

“Akaashi, I didn’t— I mean— it’s not that I don’t—“

“That’s not a topic we need to breech right now. I’m just saying that I think Kuroo-san would understand and you should talk to Kenma about what you’re feeling.”

The whistle blew for Fukurodani to take their place on the court. Karasuno stood opposite the net, Tanaka and Nishinoya giving Bokuto a predatory stare.

“Akaashi, they can’t actually kill me, can they?”

“Don’t worry, Bokuto-san,” the setter clapped him on the back, “I’ll protect you.”

Nekoma sat for a break after a match hard won, watching Karasuno and Fukurodani face off. Kenma couldn’t help but wince every time a crow delivered a spike with a little more malice than was called for.

“They’re really letting Bo have it, huh? Poor guy. Hope she was worth it,” Kuro chuckled as the owl lunged to save a ball.

“You know he didn’t actually sleep with her, right? I don’t think they’ve talked, even.”

“Then who do you think Lev saw him with? There’s that redhead girl, do you think he mistook her for blonde in the dark?”

“Are you gonna keep pursuing Kei after he goes home?” Kenma leveled Kuro with a stern look, chomping the last of his banana from the peel, daring him into the subject change.

Kuro frowned, glancing out to the Karasuno player. “I think this’ll be the end for us. I mean, we’ll see each other at Nationals, but I don’t think we’re the kind of people who’re gonna maintain communication, you know? We’re not like you and Hinata.”

Kenma followed his gaze onto the court. Despite the high velocity volleys, Koutarou was in beautiful form. He had to admire how the boy glowed in his element. He tried to imagine what happens next, after camp, if he let him go as easily as Kuro would Kei.

He was bothered by how much he hated the thought.

Koutarou wasn’t going back to Miyagi. Kenma would continue to see him at practice matches and on free weekends when they went downtown with Kuro and Keiji. In the past there’d been a cordial wall between them. He didn’t want that wall to go back up when they left this place. Kenma wanted more. He wanted goofy Koutarou by his side, helping commentary his games. He wanted to listen to childish Koutarou complain about school after a long day. He wanted gentle Koutarou to take care of him when he was sick.

He was struck with the realization that this wasn’t the quick burning summer love Kuro had described. It might be the real thing.

_I might love you, Kozume Kenma._

Koutarou had said it, sure, but Kenma had written it off as part of the after glow, pillow talk. Now, with a clear head in full daylight, he still felt the tug at his heartstrings when those eyes locked onto him.

“So are you officially dating now? Do I need to give Shorty ‘The Talk’?” Kuro gave him a playful jab to the ribs.

Kenma shook his head, “it’s not Shouyo.”

“Not— Okay… then who? Spill some details, Kenma, brag a little, it’s what best friends do.”

“You’re not allowed to get mad.”

“Kenma. Who.”

“He’s scared you’ll hate him.”

“Kenma.”

A whistle signified the end of the match. Karasuno crowed in victory.

“Kuro, did it occur to you that _I’m_ blonde?”

Sharp eyes followed Kenma’s gaze to where the Fukurodani captain led his team in penalty laps. Tense silence grew tenser every second while the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Hmmhm.”

“My best friend.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t.”

Kenma felt a sense of helplessness and pity as he watched Kuro process his emotions. His mouth was tight-lipped while his eyes glared down his best friend from across the room. When he finally spoke again, his voice cracked.

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know, maybe, I think so. We haven’t really talked about it.”

“Why him?”

Kenma didn’t get a chance to respond before they were called back onto the court to face Karasuno.

The other team was exhausted from extinguishing Fukurodani, but there was obvious spite left over for Lev.

“Think just cause you play dumb and innocent, we won’t punish you for spreading rumors about our Yacchan?” Tanaka jeered across the net. Kuroo heard Lev’s bumbling defense, but he had a new appreciation for the Karasuno wing spiker. A growing part of him was also mad at Lev for exposing what should have never come to light. Some things were better left in the dark.

As a team, they prided themselves in their connection. He had never felt as disconnected from Kenma as he did right then. Between Karasuno’s ire and their disconnect, the match was a wash. It was probably for the best; at least it earned them the team’s forgiveness.

Kuroo ran his penalty lap then excused himself to the locker room, wanting space away from his two best friends to try to organize his thoughts.

Why Bokuto? Why had Kenma turned to Bo? Akaashi, maybe, he would have understood. At least then Kenma would have had someone to turn to when Kuroo went off to University. Bokuto was a third year, same as him, so that reasoning didn’t stand. Bo was loud, excitable, pushy, and passionate, all of the things Kenma couldn’t stand. He had always assumed that Kenma valued him for his understanding, gentleness, patient encouragement. So why had he chosen Bokuto?

Why hadn’t Kenma chosen him?

It took him a full minute to realize the emotion he was experiencing was heartbreak. Kenma broke his heart. Bokuto betrayed him. Suddenly sitting by himself in a facility full of other people somehow felt lonely.

Terribly, terribly lonely.

“Hey.”

Kuroo physically jumped, twisting to see Tsukishima almost timidly slipping around the lockers.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m—“

“Don’t lie, it just makes you look stupid,” the taller stepped close, brushing wet off the corners of Kuroo’s cheeks. “I’m assuming you figured it out?”

“You already knew?”

Tsukki gave a patronizing smirk. “It wasn’t hard. In a dark room at a glance, who looks like Yachi but isn’t Yachi? Slim build, shoulder length blonde hair, it’s kind of obvious,” he looked Kuroo directly in the eye, nose inches apart, “unless you really didn’t want to believe it.”

Kuroo sighed, shifting to rest his forehead on Tsukki’s shoulder. The younger placed a reassuring hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

“You have to talk to him about it. You can’t just ignore the issue or it’ll destroy your friendship.”

“So when are you gonna talk to freckles?”

“Fuck off.”

The two stood in silence until they heard the lunch whistle blow. Composing themselves, they went their separate ways. Tsukki went to join his team, their bus would be leaving after lunch. Kuroo set out to find his best friends.

They were sitting at their usual spot, side by side. His spot next to Kenma was still empty; the sight of it calmed his nerves a surprising amount. He hoped it was a sign that Kenma would always leave room for him. From afar he could see Bo talking adamantly. He could see Kenma laughing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Kenma laugh so openly.

Kuroo steeled his nerves and approached. Bo fell silent when he spotted him. Kenma turned to look, laughter dying from his face. Kuroo smiled sheepishly, standing before them.

“Hi,” he tried not to let his voice shake, “would you two like to eat lunch outside with me today maybe,” he cursed the stilted word jumble that escaped his lips, but his brain was whirring too fast to keep up.

Kenma smiled.

That was good. Kuroo smile back.

“I could deal with having fewer people around. Koutarou, does lunch outside sound good?”

Bokuto had gone pale, but nodded, picking up his food and following the other two outside. Akaashi gave him a reassuring pat on his way out.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, no one entirely sure how to break the ice. They all knew they had to talk, so they bore the tension a few minutes longer until Kuroo finally broke it.

“So… how did it happen? When did it start?”

“Two days ago—“

“Last year—“

The two looked at each other, Kenma startled silent while Bokuto gave him an awkward guilty smile.

“Sorry. Last year’s training camp. I just thought you were really pretty and really really talented. I never really intended to do anything about it, though, cause I thought— cause of Kuroo. But then Kuroo was with Tsukki and you kissed me.”

“Wait, Kenma kissed you first?”

“Y-yeah, two days ago, when I was taking care of him.”

Kuroo leveled Kenma with a parental look, causing the boy to look away like a guilty dog. “I guess I should be glad you took initiative in something” _but why not me?_ The real question went unasked. He’d assumed Bokuto had beaten him to the punch, but if Kenma initiated the relationship, then he really had chosen Bo over him. Kuroo resolved to keep those feelings to himself, they wouldn’t help anyone if they got out.

“I wanted to know what you meant, Kuro, when you talked about the ‘passion of youth’ and summer romance,” Kenma mumbled, refusing to look at either of them. “I wanted to know why you were spending every night with Kei instead of me. You couldn’t even be bothered to be away from him when I got hurt.”

 _Oh_. That answered questions Kuroo didn’t know he had. “I’ll take it from the number of hickies on your chest that you found your answer,” he raised an accusing eye at Bokuto.

“No.”

“No?” Both third years turned to look at Kenma. Bo could feel his heart drop, inches from breaking.  
Kenma gave him a nervous look before facing Kuroo.

“No, it’s not like you and Kei. It’s not fast burning and short lived. Kei goes back to Miyagi today. You won’t see each other for months. He’s going to move on, probably with his pinch setter. It’s not just a summer romance to me,” he swallowed hard, turning to Bokuto, “Koutarou, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep pursuing you.”

“Kenma, I—“ Bokuto looked to Kuroo.

“You don’t need my permission. Kenma’s his own man and he’ll do what he wants. Trust me, he’s as stubborn as they come, I couldn’t control him if I wanted to,” he gave his best friend a hard pat on the back, “but if you really wanted it, you have my blessing. I’ll give you the stern fatherly ‘if you ever hurt him I’ll kill you’ talk later. That requires language too strong for Kenma’s innocent ears.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Bokuto returned Kuroo’s gesture with a smile. He turned to Kenma, grabbing the boys hands in his own, “Kozume Kenma, will you be my boyfriend.”

“Wow, you could have waited until a more romantic setting,” Kenma didn’t know his face could burn that hot.

“We had our first time in a storage room, I feel like this is par for the course.”

“You know you can ask him out without reminding me that you had sex, right,” Kuroo hid his exasperation behind his hand.

“Yes,” Kenma returned Bokuto’s determined expression, “I will be your boyfriend, Bokuto Koutarou.”

“You may now kiss the bride,” Kuroo mumbled into his palm, moving to leave the two of them alone in their moment. He’d made it halfway back to the cafeteria before he felt his phone vibrate.

**KENMA**

>>Thank you

Kuroo couldn’t help but sigh. His fight was gone, but somehow he felt better for it. He took a seat next to Akaashi to listen to the coaches’ closing remarks.

The Fukurodani second year threw a knowing arm around his shoulders. Kuroo accepted the gesture. Leaning into the slender setter, he got the feeling that it was all going to work out.


End file.
